We're Locked in Time
by Awkward Turtleduck
Summary: Glimpses of Brittany and Santana's past and their future. (Written for Brittana Week: Days 5 & 1)
1. Let's Rewind

**A/N: **Was clearing out my drafts folder and found this. This was supposed to be for Brittana Week: Day 5 (Mini!Brittana) but I fretted about this and attempted to edit it but never got around to actually making any changes. So here it is in its raw state.

* * *

_**Let's Rewind**_

* * *

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Okay, nope, this isn't helping at all. Even as she is trying to take deep breaths to calm her nerves, Santana still feels like the air is just taking a quick visit to her lungs and then it is leaving so soon that she doesn't feel like she is breathing at all. She squeezes her eyes shut in the hopes that maybe if she focuses on letting the air in, it will actually go somewhere it is really needed, like, you know, from her lungs to her heart, which will hopefully help calm its pounding.

But at the slightest sound of movement around her, she opens her eyes wide. Her breathing becomes shallow again and her heart is racing madder than ever.

Her palms are already sweaty and she wonders when was it that she, Santana Lopez, hailing from the notorious Lima Heights Adjacent, had become such a nervous wreck.

She eyes the cars coming in and dropping their snot-faced packages on the curb.

Thinking about it now, closing her eyes seems like a bad idea since she might miss that girl she had been waiting for by the bike rack for almost an hour now.

Which is kinda dumb and creepy.

But hey, she can't be blamed for trying to hang on to the only good thing in this crappy cow-town.

Well, maybe that's an exaggeration.

But not by much.

See, Santana Lopez never had much luck making friends, due in no small part to being put under the careful eye of her mami or her abuela most times. She had thought at first that it's just because they're overly protective of her, only child-slash-grandchild and all. But lately, she's gotten the feeling that it's more than just that.

Like the other night, when she was rifling her parents' dresser to try on her papi's ties, her mami caught her in the act and tugged her out of the room. She was made to stand at the hallway, and, just her luck, her abuela had come over for dinner, so she had the pleasure of a tongue-lashing from the woman she loves and respects above everyone else.

"Dios mio, Santana! Eres una chica! Why do you insist on behaving in such an unladylike manner! Climbing trees, playing with dirt, running around like those misbehaving miscreants, and now, dressing up in your father's clothes! We really cannot take our eyes off you for even just one minute!"

Her mami tried to intervene but it only resulted in a heated argument in Spanish too fast for her to catch.

So anyway, the fact that she doesn't get to go out much, and that she often has to wear these uncomfortable dresses when she does may have made her a bit… socially awkward.

In an angry sort of way.

Well, she can't help it; other kids are just dumb and they look at her funny and if she doesn't make it clear from the very start that she ain't taking bullshit from them, who knows what she'll end up having to deal with for the rest of her stay in Lima.

Mm-hmm, that's right, girl; Santana Lopez is getting out of Lima and she's gonna be a star.

In what way, she still hasn't figured that part of the plan yet.

Well hey, baby steps.

So yeah, back to the two established points: a) Santana hates being in Lima, and 2) she doesn't have many friends (read: none). But, something happened last week that just might change these two points.

She found a girl with the sun in her hair and the sky in her eyes.

/

So Santana is determined to become a star, right?

Lately, she has been crafting her plans as to how to become one, and her leading idea is to form a band and become a rockstar. So one night, she asks her parents for an electric guitar. And amplifier. And everything else that rockstars use, because she's going to be one.

It didn't take her long to realize that telling them is one of the worst decisions she has ever made in her short life.

Dr. Lopez drops his spoon and her mami's eyes dart from him to Santana and back to her husband. Then comes the longest, most uncomfortable silence in the history of mankind.

"No," her papi finally said, his eyes dark and unreadable.

And Santana thinks that's that.

Boy, was she wrong.

The next night, her abuela comes over and after another sermon about how it's not good to act so unladylike, she announces that she's enrolling Santana to dance class.

Santana can't remember what happened after that announcement. She thinks she might have blacked out.

See, Santana Lopez doesn't do dance classes. She'd rather climb trees, run around and play cowboys and Indians with the other kids, shoot some water guns and the likes. But what can she do, her abuela says so and her abuela is like God. Her word is law.

So Saturdays has become ballet days.

Which, you know, she still hasn't exactly warmed up to. She just isn't used to controlled yet graceful movements. So her first day kind of sucked, and that really puts a damper on her Fridays, 'cause then they'd mean Saturday is just one shut-eye away.

But anyway, on her second day at ballet class, she finally finds a ray of sunlight. In the form of a really pretty blond girl with blue eyes the color of noon-sky. This girl is like the awesomest dancer in the class, and even puts their teacher to shame. It's like pretty girl had sucked in all the grace that everyone in the room possessed so that they all looked like bumbling idiots beside her.

So Santana decides that she'll, you know, try to make friends with her or something.

Which turns out to be very difficult since she's kinda awkward and the pretty girl is all friendly-like and all the other kids naturally congregate around her. But like hell she's gonna give up easy.

After careful yet casual observation, Santana finds out that pretty girl rides her bike to ballet class. Which isn't exactly very common since the other girls are usually dropped off by their parents. Heck, Santana's abuela drops her off to class. But anyway, Santana has a bike, and after reasoning with her abuela (citing increased leg power thereby translating to better performance in class), she is now allowed to bike to class.

If she can just time things right, she can, like, have a few minutes with pretty girl by the bike rack, before they go to class and those other idiots swarm around her.

That is a good plan. But then again, Santana kinda sucks at following through with her plans, and she ends up coming to class a good hour early, which she spent fretting by the bike rack. When her watch says it's nine o'clock, and the other kids have arrived, she reluctantly left the rack. She can't be late for class since their teacher is kinda strict about time and tends to pick on the latecomers.

She looks around once more and wonders if the pretty girl is sick.

/

Pretty girl isn't sick. Just late.

And she doesn't look bothered at all with the fact she's late. She's wearing a bright smile as she skips her way to class, putting down her pink backpack with floral print carefully at the corner before going to the dance area. And even if the teacher singled her out and made her do some of their exercises in front, solo, it only served to highlight her superior skills.

Even the teacher had to begrudgingly praise her.

If she's asked what they had learned In class that day, Santana will be hard-pressed for an answer. After all, she spent most of the time just staring at this girl—_Pierce_, she had learned her name was. Santana wonders what her first name is.

As she has already predicted, their classmates gather around Pierce during break and every available slack time. Santana waits for an opportunity but damn, those kids stick to Pierce's side like Epoxy super-stick glue. And what's worse is that it's pretty obvious that they don't really want to get to know Pierce better; they think that by praising her a bit, it qualifies them to be 'best friends forever and ever' with her. Hell, they aren't even listening to her carefully when she speaks. They'd cut her off every single time and segue to their own stories.

Santana sits by the corner, seething. But she has learned not to glare too obviously since she had caught one of them point at her and whisper among themselves. Probably warning each other not to get too close to her.

Her first thought was 'Damn right, bitches' followed closely by 'Oh shit, what if they warn her to stay away from me?' So she resolves to direct her glare at her PB&J.

"Here." A sandwich appears in front of her. When Santana looks up, she finds herself face-to-face with Pierce herself, all bright smile and sunshine. Santana just gaped at her like an idiot, her mouth hanging open.

"You seem pretty mad at your sandwich, so why don't we switch? I love PB&J. This one's ham and cheese, and I love it, too, but we can switch." When Santana still doesn't say anything, Pierce adds in an unsure tone, "If you want?"

Santana finally collects enough of her wits to nod.

"Great!" Pierce takes the already-bitten PB&J and replaces it with her own.

After regaining basic motor skills, Santana finds that her verbal communication skill is also coming back, so she clears her throat and says, "I'm Sa—"

"Hey B, come here! Take a look at this!"

"Okay!" Pierce turns back to Santana and smiles. "Thanks for the sandwich."

Santana can only blink in response. She doesn't eat the sandwich and instead she puts it in her bag with all the reverence to a sacred object.

/

After class, Pierce's posse disappears soon since their parents arrive promptly to pick them up. She usually stays a bit longer since she has to change out of her tutu and tights and into shorts. Santana tries to match Pierce's pace so when Pierce is finished changing and is going over to the bike rack, she hastens to follow her. But Santana's bike is locked at the opposite end, and as luck would have it, she fumbles with the lock so bad—she doesn't know if it's the nerves from the knowledge that she'll be able to finally talk to Pierce, or if it's just that she isn't that high up in God's book of dispensing good fortune—that when she finally frees her bike and looks up, Pierce is already gone.

/

Okay. Santana may not be a lot of things, like 'dainty little princess' for one, but she's someone who learns from her mistakes.

Well, not really. But she tries her best.

Anyway, she has figured out that going to class early doesn't work, so she resolves to just go to class late.

A capital idea, if she says so herself.

That Saturday, Santana left the house at the usual time (which is still quite early) but she biked around the block, killing time, instead of waiting by the rack again and look like a creepy idiot. When she sees that it's already 9:05 on her watch, she finishes the ride around the block and heads towards the studio.

She's late. She's late and she knows it and she doesn't care.

She stops by the bike rack and looks around. She should be coming in any second now.

…

…

…

Well, okay. Maybe Santana miscalculated. She gets off her bike and leans it against a tree and tries to sneak a look at the ongoing class through the window. Pierce is already there, dancing with the rest of them.

Oh.

So much for the capital idea.

Santana contemplates about biking away her embarrassment, but hey, Santana Lopez ain't no quitter. So she goes back to the bike rack and tried to guess which one is Pierce's.

After careful deductive reasoning, she concludes that the pink one with a weaved basket in front and sunflowers painted on the body was Pierce's. The design is pretty much the same one on her backpack, so.

Santana doesn't know what came over her, or why she even thought that it was a great idea at that time but—

She's gonna take her chances.

She goes to the studio, and she knows that she should be worried about getting scolded for being really late but all she can think of is what's going to happen after class.

/

Well then.

Their teacher had just delivered the sermon of the century and Santana's ears are still buzzing. Frankly though, she thinks that young as she is, she can cut that bitch down to size. Her abuela has taught her well and Santana doesn't disappoint. But going all Lima Heights on her dance teacher isn't gonna do her favors, and it might actually make Pierce think badly of her so all the while she was being scolded, she just bit her tongue.

But even after eight years of being bred on insults and disapproving looks, she still gets a little down when being told off. So she trudges towards the bike rack, forgetting for a moment what she had done earlier until she sees Pierce standing there, looking at her bike.

When Santana was near enough, Pierce looks up. "Is this your bike?"

Immediately, Santana's heartbeat speeds up and her breaths come in shallow gasps. She contemplates on a lie but _yeah right,_ like she can weasel her way out of this one.

"Y-Yeah," she finally stutters out.

"It's locked to mine."

Santana swallows the lump in her throat. She racks her brain for an excuse, any excuse. But her mind conveniently decides to blank out at that moment so she just flushes in embarrassment.

"Hey," Pierce touches her wrist. "Are you all right?"

Santana nods dumbly. After taking a deep breath, she mutters, "Sorry."

"Nah, it's all right. Locks can be very confusing." Pierce bites her lip. "I actually don't know how to lock stuff."

Santana, who has been keeping her head down, looks up at her and then at her bike and sees that Pierce's bike isn't locked to the rack at all. No wonder it doesn't take her more than a second to leave every single time. She frowns. "Your bike might get stolen." The moment she said it, Santana thinks of how silly it sounds. Of course the habit of locking her bike came with living in Lima Heights, where if you don't pay close enough attention to your surroundings, you'll end up with not a stitch of clothing left on you.

But Pierce just smiles. "Then I guess you'll have to lock your bike to mine from now on." She holds out her hand. "I'm Brittany, by the way."

"Santana," she mumbles, discreetly wiping her palm on the side of her shorts before taking Brittany's hand.

"That's a really pretty name." Santana can't help but smile at the compliment. "Ooh! And you have really pretty dimples." Santana ducks her head in embarrassment, which earns her an airy laugh. "You're a shy one, aren't you?"

"You probably want to go home now," says Santana, in a lame attempt to cover up her lack of conversational skills. Wow, way to go, Santana. After all that trouble to have some time alone with her, she goes to drive her away. God, she really does suck at making plans. She bends over to unlock the bikes.

"No, not really." A pause. "Do you?"

The lock clicks and the bikes are free. Santana takes a deep breath before admitting, "No, not really."

"Do you want to go to the park and get some ice cream?" asks Brittany, her eyes lighting up.

"Sure."

/

Once on their bikes, Santana soon discovers how easy it is to keep pace with Brittany. Like she doesn't have to think too much about not going too fast or too slow. Like her body just instinctively knows how to act around her.

Too bad her brain and her mouth don't follow.

They spend the entire time it takes to get to the park in awkward silence. Well, for Santana, at least. Brittany doesn't seem to mind. In fact, she has been humming a tune to herself.

When they arrive at the ice cream parlor, Santana has come up with something to say, and as they wait for their ice cream cones, she blurts it out, "You're a really great dancer."

Which of course makes her want to kick herself. Really, Santana? Really? That's all you can think of saying?

But Brittany just smiles prettily and says, "Thank you. You dance pretty well, too. I think you just need to loosen up a little; teacher did say that dance is about freedom."

"Well, I never had much experience with either," she mutters without thinking.

Brittany looks at her curiously but thankfully, the ice cream man presented them with their cones. They decide to sit by the benches near the playground.

"Are you gonna be a dancer when you grow up?" Santana asks, partly out of curiosity and partly to ensure that the previous topic would be forgotten.

"Mmm, maybe." Brittany gives her ice cream a lick. "I also want to be an animal doctor and a weatherwoman."

Santana's brows raise. "Wow, that's a lot." Then after giving her ice cream a few licks, "Why weatherwoman?"

"So that I can warn people about floods. And sunshine."

"Sunshine?" Santana scrunches her nose in confusion. "Why would you have to warn them? Isn't that what everybody wishes for?"

Brittany shakes her head and Santana can't help but be caught up by the rays of sunlight making her hair even more golden. Yep, why would anyone have to be warned of that? But Brittany is speaking again and Santana snaps back to the conversation. "Not everybody's a sunflower; some are heffalumps."

"Heffalumps?"

Brittany nods solemnly. "Yeah. They get hot easily."

Santana thinks about this for a moment before a smile blooms in her face. She still doesn't get much about sunflowers and heffalumps, only that there are different people who have different temperaments and like different things. And that even so, they should be treated the in same way.

But more importantly, what Santana also gets is that Brittany Pierce is a smart person with a big heart.

"That makes sense."

Brittany looks at her carefully, her noon-sky-blue eyes darting between Santana's and on the smile still on her face. She smiles back. They finish their ice cream in companionable silence.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Brittany asks after a moment.

"Sure."

"I've been wanting to talk to you since forever but I didn't know how." Santana sputters in disbelief. "'Cause you frown all the time and sometimes I even catch you glaring at me."

"I-I wasn't—not at you—I—"

Brittany just smiles wider. "I know. I kinda figured that out when you let me swap sandwiches with you."

Santana furrows her brows. "Then why didn't you just talk to me then?"

"I don't know," says Brittany, shrugging her shoulders. Her smile turns into a Cheshire grin. "I guess it's because it looked like you had a plan figured out and I was curious to see what it was."

Santana's eyes widen. "All this time you knew?"

"Locking our bikes together was a really awesome idea." Santana just stares at her, still shell-shocked. Brittany turns to look at the playground, and starts humming. She wriggles her right hand closer to Santana's left and she carefully intertwines their little fingers together. Santana looks at their linked pinkies. Brittany lifts their hands together, her smile sly.

"If I knew how to work the locks, I'd have done the same thing."


	2. You're Still Mine

**A/N: **And this one was for Brittana Week: Day 1 (Future!Brittana). Originally posted in my tumblr (turtleduckie).

* * *

_**You're Still Mine**_

* * *

Tip.

Tap.

Tip.

Tap.

Tip-tap-tip.

Tip.

Tip.

Tip.

"It's driving you crazy, too, isn't it?"

Santana raises herself with her elbows to look at her girlfriend sprawled beside her on the floor. "What?"

"Your eye's been twitching with every drop." Brittany shifts so that she can look at her properly. They've been lying on the floor for an hour now. Moving in to their new place has been a very exhausting experience, and they've only just managed to put the boxes inside.

Santana shakes her head and groans, "It's like the water torture. Why didn't we notice it before? I'm gonna kill our realtor."

"Oh, honey. It's just a leaky faucet." Brittany puts her arm on Santana's stomach and starts rubbing it lazily. "I'll pull out my plumbing skillz once I've gotten my strength back."

"I wasn't aware you had _plumbing skillz_, Ms. Pierce," says Santana, chuckling, before leaning over to press a kiss on her girlfriend's temple.

"I'm full of surprises, babe," says Brittany, giving her a wink.

"Mm-hmm. I'm sure you are." Santana moves to straddle her. Brittany just gives her an amused look even as her hands drop to her girlfriend's hips. Santana grins wickedly before leaning to kiss her fully on the lips. But of course, it's nearly impossible to just have a chaste kiss when they're in this kind of position so it takes no time at all before they are full-on making out.

"You know," Brittany mumbles against Santana's lips, "if we keep this up, I don't think I'll be able to fix the faucet."

"To hell with the faucet." Santana's left hand slips under Brittany's shirt as she kisses her again.

"It's been driving you insane," Brittany reminds her cheekily. She fingers the button on Santana's jeans before popping it open. Santana moans as Brittany's fingers touch the warm skin just above the hem of her underwear.

"If you stop now, I'll go insane," Santana manages to gasp out as she rolls her hips. A bright, airy laughter leaves Brittany's lips and when she withdraws her hand, Santana groans. "Britt…"

Brittany presses one last pacifying kiss on her girlfriend's lips before moving to sit up. "We can christen our new apartment later."

"Fucking tease."

Brittany rolls her eyes. "You're forgetting that we have to clear up the boxes before the piano gets here."

Santana pouts, which Brittany can't help but kiss away. She makes a move to get up and Santana reluctantly follows. "Come on, the sooner we set the place right, the sooner we can do the things we need to do…" Brittany trails off as she steps closer to Santana, tracing small circles on her stomach with her finger. Santana shivers at the touch, making Brittany smirk. "Like fixing that faucet."

"Damn that faucet!" Santana growls, pulling Brittany flush against her. Brittany just laughs. She gently pushes Santana away. She goes to the piles of boxes by the doorway. When Santana still doesn't join her, she turns around.

"I promise to fix _your_ plumbing real well later," she says in a low tone, sending shivers down Santana's spine.

Santana gulps and nods her head.

/

"It's a fucking miracle, that's what it is."

Brittany can't help but smile at her girlfriend who is currently slumped against the grand piano that took up the entire living room of their apartment. She's right; it is a fucking miracle. When they had been scouring the area for an apartment, they both had two specific conditions that had to be met: first was that there has to room enough for Santana's grand piano; and second was that there has to be a room that will serve as Brittany's dance studio.

It had been difficult, considering their budget limitations and the prospective neighbors' openness to the idea of someone playing the piano, and things came to a head after the nth apartment they've looked at.

"Honey, why does it have to be the grand piano? I mean, we can just get a keyboard, or at least the upright one. A grand piano is really difficult to fit in an apartment. Even if it's a baby grand."

Santana was silent for a long time. And when she did speak, her voice was soft. "It's my abuela's." She looked at Brittany and smiled sadly. "She gave it to me on her will."

And that settled the matter.

The move itself, though, was a nightmare. Despite having done her research and talked to the movers, Santana couldn't help but freak out when they removed the lid, the pedal lyre and the legs. There were times that Brittany thought that Santana would faint. But things got easier from there; the piano was wrapped in blankets and strapped to the board. Thankfully, it was in the first floor of Santana's abuela's house, so the only vertical displacement it went through was when it was hoisted up to their apartment.

Santana tilts her head so that she can look at her girlfriend who was standing by the doorway with her arms crossed against her chest. She smiles. "I'm sorry I was being stubborn about this. It really means a lot that you let me keep this, despite the hassle of moving and the additional cost of hiring the movers."

Brittany just shakes her head and walks over to her. She places her hand on top of the piano and lifts up the cover. She runs her fingers across the keys. "This is a partnership, remember? We help each other keep our priorities."

Santana can't help but smile at that. "Damn straight."

"Damn gay," Brittany deadpans. Santana chuckles. Brittany hugs Santana from behind. They remain cuddling in silence for a while before Brittany speaks again, in a hushed tone. "You've never really told me the reason why you changed majors when we were still in college."

Santana breathes deeply and says nothing. Brittany just waits, snuggling her close. For a moment, Santana is lost in thought on how lucky she is for having somebody so understanding and patient in her life. She turns her head a little so that she can kiss her girlfriend's cheek. "It's just been so difficult to talk about."

Brittany nods.

"I mean, abuela just died and there were these feelings that haven't been sorted out, you know?" Santana inhales sharply as she feels her eyes stinging with tears. Even after all these years, the fact that she didn't get to properly speak to her grandmother again after opening up to her and telling her she's gay still makes her want to curl up and cry. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to control her breathing.

"Honey…" Brittany holds her tighter.

Santana smiles weakly and decides to let it all out. She pushes herself away from the piano and untangles the arms wrapped around her waist, making Brittany frown in confusion. She just tugs her to the red loveseat—the only other furniture they managed to squeeze in the room. They sit close to each other and Santana tries to speak. She opens her mouth a couple of times but can't seem to let the words out.

Brittany gently pushes her until she's laid down on the sofa, with Brittany following, lying beside her, putting an arm around Santana's waist and resting her chin on Santana's shoulder—mirroring their position earlier by the piano. Immediately, Santana feels a wave of calm washing over her and she smiles at the thought that Brittany always knows how to make her feel better.

After taking a deep breath, she finally begins. "Abuela taught me a lot of things. Though the one lesson I've always considered most important was to be myself and live life unapologetically." She pauses as a sad smile crosses her face. "But every single time I came over to her house, she would always try to make me more like the 'other little girls.' Like she was telling me, yes, I can be myself just as long as I fit into the mold that the society has set for us." Brittany squeezes her as her shoulders slump a little. "These contradictory lessons confused me a lot; many things my abuela and I did confused me a lot." Santana takes a deep breath again. "But there was one thing we did that made me feel like we understood each other." She looks at the Bösendorfer. Brittany follows her gaze.

"She taught you how to play the piano?" Brittany asks softly.

Santana gives a small laugh, shaking her head. "No. No, well, not at first. She… she taught me how to sing. She would play the piano and I'd sing." She pauses for a while. "It was like music bound us together, like it was language that both of us understood completely. In those moments, she'd look at me and it'd feel like she really saw me, like she knew my thoughts and feelings and still loved me." Her voice breaks at the end of the sentence, and she swallows.

Brittany just holds her for a while before asking, "When did she teach you how to play?"

"When she was satisfied with my singing," says Santana, chuckling. "Said that learning how to play the piano wasn't as essential, compared to being able to sing." A memory returns to her and she full-on laughs. "Once, when I had the audacity to propose to sing while playing, she gave me an hour-long lecture on how I wasn't some common barroom entertainer." She shakes her head. "Abuela was so old-fashioned."

Brittany is silent for a while as she mulls over some things. After a while, she lets out an "Oh!"

"What?"

"Now I get why you and Brad got along so well."

Santana shrugs but she smiles as she remembers their silent piano man. "Well, our bond was forged primarily out of our common hatred of the ridiculous Glee club drama, but yeah."

Brittany just shakes her head. She presses kisses on Santana's neck before mumbling, "I'm sure she's proud of you now."

Santana feels her throat constrict. She doesn't speak for a while, not trusting her voice not to break. "I'm really sorry you two didn't get to know each other better."

"It's not your fault; you don't have to be sorry about that."

"I know," Santana sniffles. "B-but I really wish she had gotten to know you better. I just know that she'd understand… how there was just no way for me not to fall in love with you."

"Oh honey." Brittany shifts until she was looking directly at Santana's face. Staring back at those clear blue eyes, Santana feels her heart slowing down and the sobs threatening to break out of her chest subside. Brittany just looks at her until the hurt eases. She reaches out to touch Brittany's face, pulling it close until their mouths are pressed together.

/

Santana tries to be discreet about it but apparently being discreet isn't really her forte.

She can't help it if her eyes keep straying to the piano, or if her fingers just randomly start tapping on the nearest available horizontal surface—well, Brittany doesn't seem to mind it so much when that surface happens to be any part of her body, and Santana finds that she doesn't either, especially when it leads to sweet lady kisses.

The date has been marked on their calendar, and when two weeks finally rolled by, Santana jumps out of the bed calls the technician to tune it and fix the pedals.

Brittany just watches in amusement as Santana makes the call. When she's done, she comes back to the bed and Brittany grabs her close and rests her cheek against her girlfriend's chest.

"Heffie."

"What?"

Brittany looks at her with a sleepy smile. "What do you say we name the piano Heffie?"

Santana lifts her brow at that. "Why Heffie?"

"Because it's a heffalump in our living room."

Santana rolls her eyes, even as she breaks into chuckles. "Heffie it is, then."

/

One of the things that Santana loves about their relationship is that despite the fact that their career paths don't exactly cross, they still try to understand each other's interests. They're both willing to teach and be taught about the things they care about.

Which is why on some mornings, Santana wakes up to the sound of Brittany playing the _Boogie Woogie Stomp_ on the piano.

Santana sits up on their bed and stretches. She takes a minute to savor this moment and to send a quick prayer of thanks for everything in her life right now.

She gets out of bed and pads over to the living room.

Hearing her come in, Brittany shoots her what is supposed to be a quick glance but ends up a gape. Her hands still themselves.

"Why'd you stop?"

Brittany just stares at her for a moment. She licks her lips. "Well, the view is kinda distracting."

Santana glances down at her body and sees she's still naked. She looks back at Brittany and smirks. "Want to do something about it?"

Brittany's dragged her gaze down to her body then back up. Santana can feel the shivers run down her spine. She waits in anticipation and watches as Brittany licks her lips again. But after a few seconds, Brittany just shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly. "Nah." She turns back to the piano and starts playing again.

Santana narrows her eyes and watches her girlfriend carefully. Brittany just keeps on playing and Santana notices the way her fingers move along the black and white keys with a tad more flourish than is necessary for playing. Santana quirks her brow and she fights back a smile. She goes over to her girlfriend and places her hands on her shoulders, making Brittany pause just for a moment, before continuing. Santana leans over until her mouth is close to the shell of Brittany's ear.

"You know," she says in a low, raspy tone, "those fingers can be put to better use."

Brittany shivers but doesn't stop. "For your pleasure, you mean."

Santana trails her hands down Brittany's still-moving arms. "Yeah," she drawls. "But you know that my pleasure is yours as well."

"Keep talking."

"You forget who taught you how to play." Santana punctuates her sentence with a bite and lick to Brittany's earlobe.

That gets her to stop.

Brittany swivels around to face her, crossing her arms. She matches Santana's gaze. "I'm pretty sure _I_ was the one who taught you how to _play_."

Santana gives her a sly smile. "I forget. Care to refresh my memory?" She sits on Brittany's lap, straddling her hips. Brittany lets out a groan and she bucks against Santana. She wraps her arms around her girlfriend's waist, pulling her close. Brittany rests her chin on the spot below Santana's clavicle, and looks up at her with dark eyes.

"You're unfair."

Santana just laughs before dipping to kiss her. She doesn't stop until she feels Brittany tremble and tighten her hold on her waist. She pulls back and says, "I'll play something for you later."

/

When Brittany wakes up hours later, it's to the sound of a piano rendition of _Songbird_.

/

It is on one of their drives around town that they discover _it_.

It being the sycamore tree in a near-secluded area at the edge of the town. When Brittany sees it, she makes Santana stop the car right away. Santana had just barely turned off the engine when Brittany jumps out of the car and starts running towards the tree.

Santana just smiles as she thinks of how much Brittany must have missed the oak tree by her window at their house in Lima. She steps off the car and follows her girlfriend in a much more leisurely pace.

"San! San! Come here quick!"

Brittany is practically bouncing up and down, and Santana can't help but shout back, "Tiggers don't climb trees!"

There is a giggle before Brittany calls out, "Climbing trees is what they do best!" She then hides herself behind the thick trunk.

"Much better than Poohs?" asks Santana, smiling, as she nears the tree. She loves these moments when they would just randomly recite lines from a book or sing some songs, throwing lines back and forth. When she circles the tree, she finds that Brittany has disappeared.

"Up here!"

Sure enough, Santana sees that Brittany is already high up on the tree, and climbing higher up still.

Santana pouts and says, "You were supposed to offer me to sit on your back as you climb up!"

"You were too slow," says Brittany, reaching up for a branch and hoisting herself up. Santana doesn't answer and just stands there, watching her girlfriend. She can never get over how Brittany moves so easily, so gracefully, no matter what it is she's doing. Like Brittany was just born for movement, and that whatever she does, be it climbing trees or simply shopping at a grocery store, it all seems like a dance.

After a minute, Brittany stops and she looks down from where she is now comfortably perched on the base of a big branch. "San, what are you still doing down there?"

"Looking out for Jagulars."

Brittany just rolls her eyes, her face splitting into a smile. "Winnie-the-Pooh's not gonna save your ass, missy. Now come on up!"

"Britt," Santana whines, just because. But Brittany knows that she's gonna do it anyway, so she just waits patiently up there.

Santana finally starts her way up. She has gotten past the crook and is now almost ten feet off the ground. She huffs a little, and thinks that she hasn't done this in a really, _really_ long while. She contemplates whining again but thinks better of it; saving her breath is more important than some flirty banter at the moment. Besides, she's pretty sure she'll be rewarded generously once she's up there with her girlfriend.

After a few seconds, she wonders why Brittany has gone quiet and she pauses from her climb to look up. Brittany is now staring off at a distance, her body leaning forward, her legs astride a branch. She seems lost in whatever it is she's seeing and Santana thinks of asking about it when she gets a pretty a good idea what it is.

She redoubles her effort and soon she is sitting at the intersection from which the limb Brittany is currently sitting on branches out.

"Holy cow," she breathes as she sees the sight before her. The sun is just about to set, painting the sky around it in pastel colors of pink and purple, with hints of orange and gray. It's not like Santana hasn't seen sunsets before, or that she hasn't seen them from a tall height; but this view, framed by the foliage of the tree, the green turning a molten golden hue, combined with the feel of the rough gnarled surface of the bark on her skin and the sound of the wind whistling on her ears—it's just magnificent.

Sublime.

The closest thing she can compare this feeling of elation to is the feeling she gets whenever she hears Beethoven's Ninth Symphony—that almost manic joy that consumes her entire body and sends fire through her veins and threatens to burst the seams of her heart.

She feels small and insignificant in the face of the beauty of everything around her and yet at the same time she feels her spirit lifts as though for that moment, she is able to transcend her limitations as a puny human, as if she has been let into the secrets of the universe. She wants to speak, to cry out, to sing, but it's like being let into this secret knowledge strikes her dumb and so she is silent.

She just gazes at the sight and basks into the feeling for as long as she can. But eventually, the sun sets and darkness gathers around them. The feeling fades and Santana regains her ability to speak.

"That was… that was just…" she laughs a little, still feeling the aftershocks of the experience. "Wow."

"Yeah," whispers Brittany.

Santana turns to look at her and she feels her heart stop, and once again, she is rendered dumb.

Brittany is still looking at the horizon, her eyes glazed and her mouth hanging slightly open. It's like those unspeakable sensations she had felt while watching the sunset, that almost-suffocating and yet at the same time liberating feeling, had taken human form and it is this woman in front of her. Santana had never before realized how the look of awe in a person can make them infinitely more beautiful, as if whatever it is that inspired their awe has lent itself to them, has let itself be mirrored in them, so that they become just as beautiful too.

But Santana knows it isn't just that, because if so, anybody sufficiently awed can be beautiful. And this sight currently in front of her is more than just that.

She doesn't know how to say it, how to explain it, other than it's _Brittany_.

Brittany by herself is already awe-inspiring. Her expansive knowledge that doesn't usually conform to the confining definitions set by the society, but which still manages to leak out and make everything around her easier to understand and even more beautiful by it; her good heart, which Santana is sure lights a fire inside every person she meets, a fire of kindness which hopefully sets into motion a cycle of continuing kindness and understanding; these and many more about her make living in this world better, infinitely better.

The sunset, Beethoven's symphony, all these moments of sublime beauty—in the end, Santana doesn't think they'd compare to the magnificence of Brittany's existence.

/

That tree soon became their spot, where they go to unwind and be reminded of the beauty of the world they live in, and to fall just a little more in love with their surroundings and with each other.

/

It isn't very often that Brittany has to go on trips to attend some meteorological conference, but whenever she does, Santana always ends up a mopey mess.

She tries very hard not to show it though. 'Cause she doesn't want to be one of those pathetic clingy people who can't last a day without their better half.

Which, to be perfectly honest, she sorta kinda is.

Anyway, there's a conference for Certified Consulting Meterologists being hosted by the AMS in New York and Brittany's been gone for two days now. Santana has been sitting on the piano stool, staring at the clock, as if by staring she can make it go any faster. In fact, it seems to have the opposite effect. She finally wrenches her gaze away and looks forlornly around her, only noticing now the music sheets scattered on the floor.

God, she really is pathetic.

She heaves a sigh and runs a hand through her hair. She reaches for her phone, which she had earlier thrown on the sofa in a lame attempt to resist the temptation to stare obsessively at it for a message or call from Brittany. And as luck would have it, the moment she has the phone on her hand, it vibrates with a text.

_stop moping, honey; don't compete with the thunderstorm heading your way. :p I'll be home soon. take care and don't forget to close the windows. love you to the moon xoxo_

Santana laughs and types back a quick reply, something like _yeah sure thing love you to the moon and back,_ because if she doesn't keep it short and sweet, she'll end up sending Brittany a long message on how much she misses her and how everything just seems bland and colorless without her but not to worry, and how she still hopes she's having a great time and to always be careful and—yeah, something along those lines.

She feels herself liven up a bit at Brittany's text. She gets up and stretches before deciding to take a shower. As she's dressing up, her eyes land on the vintage Pentax on its revered place on the bookshelf of their bedroom.

She smiles as she remembers those times when she had sneaked around and read Brittany's textbooks, in the hopes that she could surprise Brittany with her knowledge on atmospheric and oceanic sciences. But as it turned out, these weren't things she could learn just by reading, not to mention that they were so far off from her own course. She had been so disappointed with herself then though she tried not to show it. But Brittany being Brittany, she could tell what was going on with her and after some snuggles, she spilled the beans. Brittany listened to her intently and was silent for a while before telling her, "But, honey, reading up on these stuff isn't the only way; I mean, I don't understand a bit of the musical theory that you've been studying, but I do understand the music that you play."

"What are you getting at, Britt-Britt?" she sniffed pitifully.

Brittany smiled at her then and said, "At the core of meteorological studies is observation of the phenomena around us, right? So why don't we focus on that."

The next week, Brittany gave her her old camera, the one she had been using for most of high school and which had been her father's before. She explained that taking photographs helps in focusing on the details, that when one looks through the viewfinder, one tends to focus on the limited area and therefore is able to see the things that one wouldn't normally see without it.

At first, Santana thought that it meant she was just supposed to take pictures of the sky, but after developing the initial batch of pictures, Brittany laughed and told her that she could take pictures of anything she wanted.

"Everything around us gives clues to what goes on in the atmosphere—the trees, the plants, the animals, the buildings."

So from that moment on, Santana started taking pictures of random stuff and she began to understand a bit of the correlation between different factors that affect the weather and the importance of paying attention to the little details around her.

It wasn't just taking the pictures that Santana loved, but also the discussion sessions that follow after she developed the photographs. Brittany would point out how the increase in humidity can be seen in the colors of the plants, or how the behavior of animals can give clues on the weather for days to come, or how the discoloration of or the cracks on a building can tell the climate patterns of a certain area.

Eventually though, they became too busy with schoolwork and then their respective jobs, so that the camera was used less and less often.

Santana is saddened when she realizes this and she decides then and there that she will start using the camera again. She will go around town and take pictures of people and places. She thinks that she can make it a seasonal project , one that will be able to track the changes in their town. This isn't so much for research but for posterity, because someday, their children might be interested to know how the town looked like before in different seasons and—

Santana blushes as she realizes what she had just thought.

_Children._

Family.

Someday, in the future, they'll have their own family.

And they won't just be playing house anymore.

Before she knows it, she's bombarded by all these feelings and _God_, she's worrying how they would need to find a bigger place to live in and about the rising cost of education.

Santana takes a moment to breathe. She carefully files away these thoughts, and reminds herself _one day at a time._

/

Between the thoughts of starting a family and the rush of taking pictures again, Santana forgets the thunderstorm.

On any other day, she would've been able to tell, even without the weather forecast because duh, she did learn something from her girlfriend, like how the air would taste differently, a bit more acidic.

But anyway, today, Santana forgets and it isn't until the dark ominous-looking clouds have covered the sky does she finally remembers. She then hurries back to the car because she knows how dangerous thunderstorms can be.

She's on her way back when she sees lightning flash, followed closely by the loud, rumbling thunder. She feels a chill in her bones as she thinks_ too close, it's way too close_.

When the lightning-and-thunder combo increased both in frequency and intensity, Santana becomes afraid, her hands shaking on the steering wheel, and she doesn't think she's been more relieved at the sight of their apartment.

And then she feels her spine stiffen.

A split-second later, she sees it. A terrifying white-hot bolt of lightning cutting through the dark tapestry of the sky, rending it in half. And another split-second later, she hears it. A not-so-distant explosion and the earth-shaking rumble of thunder combined that made her bones quake.

A chilling sense of foreboding tinged with desperation wins over her better judgment and it makes her drive past their apartment and towards the edge of town.

And she sees it.

It being the remains of what used to be their tree.

Its sap had exploded, shattering the trunk and sending burning pieces of it all over the place. She stops the car at a safe distance and she just looks.

Looks at their tree as it burns.

Santana absentmindedly reaches for the Pentax and brings it to her face. She looks at the tree through the viewfinder for a moment, before she clicks the shutter.

Whir.

Click.

Whir.

She is snapped out of her haze by a sharp rap on her window. She puts down the camera and stares at the person leaning over. It was a firefighter. She takes a quick glance around and saw two trucks parked nearby. And it's then she hears the sirens. A faint memory tickled at the back of her brain, of a moment when she had been struck dumb, and this current moment mirroring it in a warped way, striking her deaf.

Another rap and she snaps back to the window and lowers it.

"Are you all right, ma'am?"

She nods slowly, still not completely out of her haze.

The firefighter narrows his eyes as he surveys her. Then after a moment, he says, "This area's not safe, ma'am. Please evacuate yourself as soon as possible."

Again, Santana just nods.

The firefighter tips his head respectfully before turning towards the truck. Santana takes one last look at their burning tree before turning on the engine.

/

Brittany calls her a few minutes after she arrives at the apartment.

After Santana assures her that she's all right, she says softly, "It's gone, Britt."

"What is?"

"Our tree. It's gone."

Brittany is quiet for a moment. Santana thinks one of them is going to cry, but nobody does. When Brittany speaks, it's in a gentle, soothing voice. "Honey… just hold on, all right? I'll be home soon."

And that makes Santana cry. How, in spite of their mutual loss, Brittany still thinks of her first. Brittany whispers a few more reassurances before she is being called away.

"I have to go now, but I'll be back there soon."

"Okay," says Santana, because there really is nothing either of them can do for the moment.

After hanging up, Santana looks around her. The music sheets are still all over the floor so she starts picking them up and arranging them.

/

The rest of the week passes by like a blur. Santana pushes back the images of that day to the far recesses of her mind and by the time Brittany gets back home, she thinks that she's over it.

When Brittany sees her at the airport, she drops her bag and hugs her tight. Santana hugs her back before pulling away and smiling. She asks her about the trip, and cracks some jokes about airplane food. Brittany looks at her curiously but doesn't say anything.

Santana is talking about her new ideas for a composition when Brittany asks, "Can we go see it?"

Santana stops short. "See what, Britt-Britt?"

"Our tree."

Santana tenses. Then she plasters on a tight smile. "It's gone, Britt."

"Santana…"

The silence that follows stretches long and taut. Santana wonders for a moment if Brittany will back down, but she doesn't. Her shoulders slump and she wordlessly drives them to the edge of town.

When they arrive, Brittany steps off the car and walks towards where the tree used to be. Santana stays in the car and refuses to look; instead, she focuses her gaze on the steering wheel.

She doesn't know how long they stayed there, but eventually, Brittany comes back to the car.

"It's gone."

"I know," says Santana as she moves to start the engine.

"No, I mean it's completely gone. They removed everything. No stump, nothing."

At the heartbroken note in Brittany's voice, Santana lifts her head. Her eyes rake over Brittany's slumped figure before they turn to the clearing.

There really is nothing left, only bald spots on the ground here and there, and an obviously dug-up spot where their tree once stood.

Santana doesn't know what to say. She reaches out to hold Brittany's hand. After a while, Brittany shifts so that they can lace their fingers.

They remain there, holding hands, until the feeling of loss has been eased a little by the feeling that they still have each other.

/

When Brittany gets back from work one day, she finds Santana crying at the dinner table, with photographs spread in front of her.

"Honey, what's wrong?" she asks, alarmed.

Santana just shakes her head. Her eyes are still puffy and her nose is really red. Brittany grabs the box of tissue from the counter, and starts wiping the tears on her cheeks. After a while, Santana's sobs tapered off and she's now breathing easy.

"What's wrong?" Brittany asks again.

Santana pauses for a moment before taking two photos and pushing them over to Brittany. Brittany looks at them and she lets out a small gasp.

"Is it…?"

Santana nods. She takes a deep breath before speaking. "When I saw these, it struck me how we never took a picture of it when it was still there, of the sights we saw, of us three together." She looks up at Brittany, her eyes still swollen and glistening. "We don't have a photo of us three. She's gone, Britt, she's gone."

Santana starts crying again. Brittany just leans over and wraps her arms around Santana, holding her close.

/

When Brittany finds the photos in the trash two days later, she retrieves them and keeps them at the bottom drawer of their dresser.

/

They are lying in bed one Sunday morning when Brittany turns to Santana.

"San, are you happy?"

"Of course I am." Santana crinkles her brows. "Why do you ask that?" Brittany just shakes her head. "Britt…" Santana nudges her gently.

She ducks her head in embarrassment as she mumbles, "I was just…"

"Just what?"

"Thinking if I make you happy."

Santana sat up straight. "What? Where is this coming from, Britt?"

"I don't know…"

Santana sighs before lying back on the bed. She shifts until she's lying on her side, facing Brittany. "Hey, Britt. Look at me, please."

Brittany doesn't move for a while, but she eventually turns to her side. She doesn't quite meet Santana's eyes. But Santana bumps her forehead against hers until she looks at her.

"Hi."

"Hey."

Santana studies her face carefully before saying. "I love you, Brittany, and you make me happy, so happy that there's never a day when I don't thank God that you're in my life." She's silent for a moment, as if letting the words sink in. "Please tell me why you're thinking these thoughts."

Brittany just looks at Santana. "I just… sometimes, it just seems like you're sad about stuff, and I don't know how to make it better." She gives a small smile. "Never mind what I've said; it's silly."

Santana's heart breaks a little. "Britt…" She takes a deep breath. "I admit that I'm still not over some things, but they're in the past, Britt. You're here with me now. And you will be with me still in the future, right?" Brittany nods her head vigorously. "Then that's the most important thing. I'm at my happiest when you're with me, and that's how I know that everything will get better." Then, as an afterthought, she adds, "You know, whenever I'm feeling down, I just recall those words you've told me years ago."

"That dolphins are just gay sharks?"

Santana blinks before breaking out into a laugh. Brittany's smile widens at the sound.

"Well, that too, but I was thinking more along the lines of anything is possible…" Here, Santana leans over to press a quick kiss on Brittany's lips. "And that you're _so_ mine."

This time Brittany is the one to initiate the kiss. She snakes her arm around Santana's waist and pulls her close. When they pull apart, Brittany's eyes are soft and she looks adoringly at her girlfriend.

"Proudly so."


End file.
